We agree to these terms. It’s the least we can do.
Petra’s mother resolves to leave the house for the first time in five years to vote no. Leandra is going to have a hard time getting to the polls, but Chris says he will carry her if necessary so they can both vote emphatically against. Donna Anvers says she will vote for flowers so against Belsum. Omar will vote for Nora maybe or for Bourne or for second chances, but in any case, we know, he will vote against.
Nathan is campaigning too. All over town, he’s put up posters with his face looking trustworthy. Every time Mama sees one, she draws a mustache on it. She mustaches so hard she breaks her marker and stains my father’s favorite shirt with ink. But excepting this sartorial tragedy, I know how she feels: better to be distracted, better to be doing something. Petra and I feel it too. Maybe we can’t vote, but we can convince lots of other people to vote the way we want them to, so that’s even better. It feels good to say our piece, to tell our side, to be heard for once. It feels good to think that this time, maybe, it’ll be different. It’s not hard to go to everyone’s door because they’re our neighbors after all, our friends. They’re us, and there aren’t so many of us.
For a little while, memory being unreliable and also, apparently, easily distracted, I almost forget all about River. But not really.
Two
Mab will not come with me because she does not want to see River. Or, to be more accurate, she wants to not see River.
Mama will not come with me because when I ask her if she wants to she says, “Over my dead body.” Which means no.
Mirabel will not come with me, but she turns away and will not say why, but it does not matter because it means I am out of people and have to go alone.
Nathan Templeton’s first campaign action was he brought me two binders containing Harburon Analytical’s extremely exacting, extremely thorough, extremely reassuring test results to lend from the library in case anyone wanted to borrow them. I said this was nice and responsible of him, but Mama and Mab and Mirabel all said that, to be more accurate, it was manipulative and disingenuous, so I shelved the binders behind the toilet, but no one came needing or even asking to borrow them anyway.
Next Nathan Templeton made his very own frisbees that read “Harburon Analytical Gives Belsum A+,” and he left these for anyone to take for free at cash registers and checkout lines and Frank’s Norma’s Bar and even, Pastor Jeff reports, at church. Mama said a stupid plastic toy in exchange for their lives not to mention justice not to mention self-respect is not a trade Bourners will make, but they are fun （the frisbees, not the Bourners） and come in many colors including yellow as well as green （so you could play in the rain since they are also waterproof） so Mama might be wrong.
Then Nathan Templeton printed posters and flyers with highlights from the test results and pictures of himself and put them up all over town. Mama defaced them, which should mean she removed his face but does not. But it was still funny.
Now, the night before the election, Nathan Templeton is having an open house, which means a party you can go to late and still not be rude. There are cookies and coffee and champagne and a slide show, and the slide show runs on a loop—in case you come politely late—and is all about the extremely exacting, extremely thorough, extremely reassuring test results.
I do not go just because I am invited. Everyone is invited.
I do not go for the cookies, even though he flew them in specially, because everyone knows cookies made by your mother are better than cookies bought from a store, even if that store is in Boston.
I do not go for the slide show because I read one of the binders he dropped off at the library （I did not have to read them both because they were exactly the same） so I know what the slide show shows.
I go to see Apple Templeton.
I ride my bicycle to my library all alone, even though I never ride anywhere all alone, even though it is very cold out, even though it is not my library anymore, and this time when I go in my eyes remember the last time they were here instead of all the times they were here before that. It looks less like a library now and more like a home because the Templetons have unpacked since the last time I was here but also because, now that my eyes know the history, they can see the home it was in the first place. And also the third place. The second place, when it was my library, turned out to be the short one. So my eyes feel very sad. The fancy kitchen in the Children’s section is full of the fancy cookies and other fancy treats, like tiny quiches that smell nice and are yellow, but I do not eat them anyway. There are a lot of people hanging around eating the snacks and watching the slide show and shaking hands with Nathan Templeton whose pants have become his expensive ones again and whose shirt and hair have both been ironed smooth. And in the corner, looking like how I sometimes want to be in the corner where it is quiet and safe and no one will touch you, is Apple Templeton.